


157 - Drunk AF Reader, Fluffy AF

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “Van taking care of YN when she gets home stupidly drunk out of her mind but she’s super happy clingy and loving drunk and he helps remove her makeup and undo her hair before she gets in bed and cute fluff shit” and “this person is friends with Van and can’t just admit she likes his band, so she just says it sucks all the time”





	157 - Drunk AF Reader, Fluffy AF

You looked at the driver again. "Wait. Why don’t you want the money?"

She sighed. "Honey. We just went through this. This isn't a taxi. It's an uber. You pay through the app automatically. Put that away before you get jumped," she explained, pushing your hand away. You looked around, still confused. "This is your house?" she asked. Following where she pointed, you shook your head. "What? It's not? Fuck. Where do you live?"

"Uhhhhhh… Other side of the city," you told her. She was getting frustrated. Already politely ignoring your muddy gumboots and the amount of glitter you were leaving on the seat, she had been incredibly patient.

"Who the fuck lives here? Why did you put this address in?"

"Van lives here," you answered happily. Suddenly you realised that is what you needed. Van. Completely. "Van!" you said again, getting out the car. The girl followed you and lingered at the gate as you knocked on the door. Lights were on inside. The door opened. Van! You fell forward, forcing him to let go of the door and quickly catch you.

"Babe… What…" he said as he carefully lowered you to the ground. You hugged his legs. Van looked out the door at the girl. She waved.

"Uh. I'm… uber… Picked her up from the festival. This is the address she entered. You know her?"

"Yeah. She's mine," Van replied, looking down at you. Your head was pressed to shins and it was grounding. "Thank you," he said to her. She nodded and disappeared to wash the dirt and sparkle from her car. Van leant down to unwrap you from his legs. He crouched in front of you. You grinned. "Hi," he said.

"Hiiiiii," you whispered back.

"Larry's asleep, so we've got to be quiet, yeah?" You nodded and held a finger to your lips to show him you understood. "Good. That's right. How drunk are you?" A badly but comically timed hiccup gave him an answer. "Right. Okay. You need water and bed, but…" He looked at your clothes and skin. "Shower first, yeah?"

"No!" you yelped.

"Y/N! Shhhh!" Van said in a very loud whisper. He pointed down the hall to Larry's bedroom. You covered your mouth with both hands.

"Sorry. Sorrrrrrrrrreh!"

He shook his head as he pulled your boots off. "Come on, up," he ordered and helped you stand. You hugged him again, forcefully rocking on the spot. He held you with one arm.

"Are you angry with me?" you asked, remembering to keep your voice lowered.

"No, darlin', why would I be?"

"Drunk,"

"It's fine. Payback for all the times you've had to sort me out, yeah?"

He held both your hands and walked you to the bathroom. When the lights came on you spun and hid your face in the corner of the room, under your arms. You made a whiney sound. Van chuckled as he turned the shower on.

"Van! Too bright!" 

He ignored the complaint.

"Can you get undressed?” 

"Can you?" you asked back, giggling at your own excellent wit.

"Y/N. Come here." His hands were on your waist pulling you closer. You let him move you like a doll. Jacket off, then dress lifted over your head. "Should we try to watch this out?" he asked about the glitter in your hair. You were too busy playing with his necklace to answer. He started to carefully undo the buns. Your hair was tangled around the ties. "Did you have fun? Who'd you see?" You started to list people before he stopped you. "Bands, baby. Which bands did you see?" You started to list them too.

"And they were classsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss," you finished.

"Better than us?"

"You know your band sucks," you replied. It was an ongoing thing, you pretending to not like Catfish. They were opening for a band you went to see ages ago. It's how you met. Annoyed at how confident Van was, misinterpreting it as cockiness when he talked to you outside the bar after, you told him they were shit. Cheap imitation of like, The Strokes, and you're not even doing anything special, was the lie you went with. Van could see through it and the joke was established.

"I know. Stupid guitar rock,"

"Don't even do encores," you replied, nodding into his chest.

"Sorry for being so bad at my job. Maybe I'll quit. What should I do instead?" he asked. If you were more coherent you would have heard the smile in his voice.

"Me!" you said, laughing again at your own hilarity. Van laughed too, but more at you than with you. Hair untangled, he held your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together.

"Ah, fuck babe. I love you," he said. "Now get in the shower." He carefully pushed you backwards, holding your arms so you'd not fall. You started to protest. Little squeaks and pushing back. "What? What's wrong?" Van said laughing.

"Can you come?"

"In the shower? No. I'm going to go get you some water and a banana or something,"

"No. I need you,"

"Oh, I know. Look at you. You're a fuckin' mess. I'll be back. Take your underwear off and brush your teeth," he said. You were under the water. You pouted and looked down. The water was running dirty and shimmery. You started to cry. Even though he knew you were drunk and dramatic, the sound stopped Van from moving. He stood at the edge of the shower. "Y/N," he reached out and pushed your head up to look at him. He smirked at your melting makeup. "Stop. I'll be back in literally thirty seconds,"

"But I love you,"

"You'll love me more when I give you water,"

"I can drink this water," you suggested, opening your mouth under the shower head and sticking your tongue out. The warmth of water made your stomach churn and you stopped immediately.

"How was it? Refreshing?" Van asked with a smirk. "I'll be back. Stay here. Take those off," he ordered as he walked from the room.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," you mumbled to yourself as you tried to unhook your bra. You gave up and peeled your underwear off instead. They fell to the tiled floor with a thick, wet slap you didn't like the sound off. Trying again with the bra, it came undone and fell to the floor too. Without Van to show off to, you were still and calm. The water did its best to clean you, but you needed soap and friction. You smiled to yourself. Van's job. Not yours.

He returned and seemed surprised you'd mostly done what he instructed. "Here," he said as he handed you a drink bottle. You didn't take it but moved to drink from it. "Y/N, I'm not feeding you like a baby." You closed your eyes and sucked water from the bottle. If you couldn't see him, you didn't have to do what he said. Drunk logic. He sighed, dropping the bottle. It hit the floor. You stepped back and looked at it. Slowly you looked up at Van. He laughed. "I just told you I wasn't gonna fuckin' feed you,"

"You dropped it,"

"Yeah," he bent over to pick it up and hold it out again. You took it. Dehydration was louder than your need to annoy Van. He sat down on the edge of the bath. "Wanna try washing your hair?"

"No. Can I have the banana?" It was in Van's hand.

"If you wash your hair,"

"How come you're not trying to touch me? Don’t you love me anymore?"

"What? Babe. You're so drunk. I'm so, so not,"

"And? Can I have the banana?"

Van sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "If I get in there with you, so I can help, will you just do what I say?" He looked at you. You wobbled on the spot and nodded. He handed the banana to you and you started to eat it, not caring that it was getting wet in the shower. It was all gone by the time Van stepped under the water with you. You went quiet as he washed your hair. Your head was pressed to his chest and your eyes were closed and you swayed side to side as he tried to detangle your hair without hurting you. When he didn't object to you pressing little kisses to his chest, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Immediately he stepped away. "No. Told you that," he said. He was serious and you didn't like the tone of his voice. When he moved back closer to you, you tried to get away but there was nowhere to go. You turned from him and hid in the corner of the shower. "What are you doing?" he asked. You shrugged. "Okay, can you do that and brush your teeth at the same time?" He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you into him, and waved your toothbrush in front of you. You tried to reach out for it but he moved it before you could hold it. He kept doing it, chuckling each time. Finally, you worked out that it wasn't because you were drunk that you could coordinate vision and movement. It was that your boyfriend was mean.

"Van!" you squealed. He handed the toothbrush over, laughing.

"Sorry," he apologised with a kiss to your shoulder. You brushed, and Van held you upright. Legs heavy and finally clean, you wanted to get out. Van was holding you tight though and he was quiet. Even drunk you could sense he was doing that thing he did when he got lost in thought. He'd cling to you, hide his face in your hair, and just think. Your arms were hanging limp, and the banana and toothpaste were reacting badly in your stomach. Your head had started to throb and the completely unwarranted need to cry was almost overwhelming. You needed Van's t-shirts and blankets and pillows and dry warmth and darkness.

"Ryan?" you whispered, not knowing why that name came out instead of the other.

"Yeah, babe," he replied. There was nothing you wanted to say; just wanted to hear his voice. "Yeah. Come on. Let's go to bed."

Your legs were shaky and wrapped in a towel, Van half-carried you to his bedroom. Muddy clothes left scattered from front door to bathroom, Larry would probably put them in the wash before either you or Van woke up. He was like that, even if he pretended to not be.

Collapsing on Van's unmade bed, you were finally happy. Paralysed, you closed your eyes and made some sort of sound of consent when Van asked if he could help you dress. His movements were awkward and gentle. They'd never be mistaken as sexual. He put clean underwear and pyjama pants on you. A few drawers in his dresser had been cleared out for you long ago. Expecting a t-shirt, you moaned when something else was pulled over your head. You opened your eyes and looked down. It was one of Van's soft sweaters. Not at all designed for bed, but the most comfortable thing he could find that would also keep you warm, it would do. You hugged your arms around yourself. Very, very happy.

Van disappeared and returned with the refilled drink bottle. It was placed on the dresser along with pain killers and your phone. You watched him plug it in to charge. God, he was good. In bed next to you, he bundled you up in blankets. You watched each other through the barely-there moonlight seeping in through the open blinds.

"Are you gonna get sick of me?" you asked him.

"No,"

"Not even when you're super famous and millions of people wanna get in your pants?"

"How am I gonna get famous if my band is so shit, Y/N?" he asked. It was a joke for you, and he smiled when you giggled. "I'll always only love you," he said, reaching out to run his thumb along your bottom lip. His fingers on your neck and jaw were good and if you could communicate better you would have told him to stay like that forever. Your head was spinning because of lying horizontally. Even all messed up, you knew you'd only ever love him too.

"Can we kiss?" you asked, hoping he'd break his 'no contact when drunk' rule.

"Only 'cause you asked so nice," he replied, pulling you closer. "And 'cause you didn't throw up on me,"

"Yet," you added with a grin. He laughed for a second, then kissed you. His mouth was warm and capable of only good things. That laugh, for example. And singing, even if you pretended he wasn't good at it. Kissing. Biting. Sucking. Saying I love you and I'll always only love you. Daydreaming out loud about babies and stadium shows. Only good things.

You fell into a drunk sleep; dreamless and necessary. Van listened to your breathing regulate, and then let himself doze off after you.


End file.
